The One Year Mark

And so it was on the twenty-seventh of August that I squeaked in under my own deadline and published my twenty-fourth original work, just a week shy of my one year mark.

My therapist, whom I adore in all of the healthy ways, says often, when I’m questioning why it is that I form the things in my brain the way that I do, “Well, you’re a writer.” I think she frames “writer” as less of an occupation and more of a personal attribute—like being stubborn, or putting my right forefinger on my nose when I’m thinking hard. I suppose it doesn’t matter overmuch whether it’s inherent or learned; the important part is that it simply is, and it is a very large part of me.

One of the things I didn’t anticipate in this undertaking was how through the process of writing, I would be able to articulate things I didn’t know were there. It was as though my writing was two steps ahead of my brain, and when something illuminating would come out, I would stop and only be able to say in shocked tones, “Oh.” Also surprising was how this blog snuck into my everyday speech: talking with a friend, I will now occasionally pause and note, “Hmm… there’s a blog in there.” My friends have taken the addition of this particular idiosyncrasy with great grace and generosity—namely, none of them have rolled their eyes or told me to stop being self-referential. I thank you for this.

It never ceases to amaze me how much can change in a year; true to form, I want to frame this phenomenon as plotlines surfacing, disappearing, and making grand entrances. I am not entirely sure where I’ll go with this effort—whether the year of writing has worn me out or revved me up, I can’t quite tell. But I’m glad I did it: wringing confessions and enlightenment out of myself a couple of times a month made me think in different ways about how I form my world and how it forms me.

I’ll tell you this much: Carrie Bradshaw I ain’t. But I’m grateful to my alter ego, Dylan Fitzgerald, for allowing me some camouflage, without which I might not have had the courage to do this.

My name is not Dylan Fitzgerald, but this is still my Middleground.

With love, and thanks,
Cait